Forgetting You
by M. Dej
Summary: Takes place after 5.13 / Justin has plans to visit Brian for the first time since he left Pittsburgh. Everything is going fine until the plane he's on is involved in an accident. Justin barely survives, one of a few, but not without permanent damage. Unlike the bashing, his memory isn't only slightly altered this time but completely erased.
1. Chapter 1

**Justin's POV.**

"Brian?" I adjusted myself in the seat, my knees almost touching my chest. I deeply hated how little room planes gave you. If I had taken the offered money from Brian I could've gotten a better seat but a part of me was still too stubborn for that. My phone was lodged between my shoulder and ear as I leaned down and began rummaging through my bag. Finally I found what I was looking for - my old ratty sketchbook - and pulled it out. Fours hours on a plane could only be occupied with drawing, drawing, and more drawing.

In my mind, at least.

"Are you about to take off?" I heard Brian reply finally.

Six months. It had been exactly six months since I'd left Pittsburgh and now I was finally, for the first time, going back to visit Brian for the holidays. When suggesting the idea I had expected Brian to feign disinterest, but then I was happily reminded that Brian had changed a lot from the person he was when I first met him.

 _"You're visiting for two weeks? Shit." Then he'd paused. "I'm glad."_

Was he still an asshole? Of course.

Did he still have problems with showing his emotions? Fuck yes.

But he tried more now, and that was all I ever truly wanted.

"Ah," I heard the speakers turn on and suddenly the flight attendant was saying something with a loud voice that drowned out Brian completely, "I'll call you when I land," I said against the phone, smiling softly, "love ya."

Now was that pushing it? Yes.

I could imagine Brian lifting his eyebrow, his lips quirking at my sappy words. "Be safe, sunshine," was all he said before the call ended with a click. Smiling, I slipped my phone back in my bag.

I was still smiling when I spotted out of the corner of the eye a person sitting down next to me. I had kind of been hoping the seat next to me wouldn't be occupied, but I knew that had been wishful thinking. A young man much like myself with a tired face and a briefcase sat, sighing. I smiled a little wider when I realized he looked a hell of a lot like Brian or maybe that's just because I was missing Brian so much.

"Hey," I greeted.

The man glanced at me briefly. "Hello."

"I'm Justin," I introduced myself properly now, even extending a hand.

The man looked at me like I was crazy, and I really didn't understand why, but then again after spending the last six years with a man like Brian I finally understood some people just couldn't be explained. It didn't mean they weren't worth getting to know, though. "Weston," the man replied after a minute, shaking my hand firmly. His hand was calloused and big.

I felt a little more relaxed after that. Turning my eyes on my sketchbook I got absorbed in drawing. I messily drew the different people on the plane he could see; a young mother with her child, an aging old man. I almost started drawing Weston when I decided that might be viewed as odd.

Deciding against that, though, I started drawing from memory.

Daphne first. I hadn't seen her in as long as Brian but Daphne, unlike Brian, sent me dozens of photos of her and other parts of her life. In the last photo she had sent him her hair had grown quite a bit and she'd gained just a few pounds. Of course I didn't tell her that even if I did think she looked better that way.

After her, I started on a new page and right away I began drawing Brian. Unlike with Daphne, I used my imagination on how much Brian could've possibly changed in six months. Last I saw him he had stopped chopping his hair off so often, which I liked, so I made a point of keeping his hair long and his eyes just as bright but with a few added wrinkles.

I smiled when I was finished, running my fingertips over the page. Just a few hours and I would know if my drawing was accurate or not.

"Who's that?"

I blinked, startled by the inquiry. I looked over and saw that Weston was staring at my sketchbook curiously, and despite having been critiqued by the best of the best in New York I suddenly felt totally embarrassed at a stranger seeing my art.

I sprawled his hand out over the page, shrugging. "My friend."

Sure, boyfriend would've been a better term but I had learned as a teenager that throwing out your sexuality could get you in a lot of trouble. When I was young I had a hard time accepting that (because who should have to hide who they are?) but now I understood my safety came before anything else.

"Doesn't look like a friend," Weston replied.

I chewed on my lip. "What do you mean?"

When I saw Weston smiling, a genuine little smile, I knew I shouldn't be worried or afraid. He gestured at the page. "The way you draw him, it shows how much he means to you."

I relaxed, feeling the weight off my shoulders. "Really?"

"Yeah," Weston laughed, and I decided he really did look like Brian. "I have a boyfriend, too, you know." I perked up, unable to keep my curiosity from showing on my face. "What's his name?"

I glanced back at the drawing, grinning big now. "Brian. You?"

"Andy," he answered. "Think you can draw him by description?"

"Of course," I replied, adjusting the pencil in my hand. I actually felt a little excited knowing I wouldn't be annoyingly bored for the next two hours. "Okay, go."

 **Brian's POV.**

"Justin is on his way?" Debbie asked as she served us, the excitement written clear across her face at the news she'd heard. She placed a plate down in front of Ted, Michael then Emmett and lastly me where she lingered.

I rolled my eyes, taking a piece of bacon off my plate. "Yup."

"How long until sunshine gets here then?" she pried, still staring.

I sighed, taking a bite out of the bacon. Some people never changed. Glancing at my watch, I shrugged. "Two hours now, I think."

"You think?" Emmett gawked. "Shouldn't you be counting down the minutes?" He clasped his hands together, a starry-eyed look on his face. "Your princess is coming back after six months you've gotta be excited." He paused when I lifted an eyebrow. "Yes, even you."

"Uh-huh," I said, looking unimpressed, "sorry but I'm not - "

"Some love-struck lesbian, we get it," Emmett finished for me knowingly.

I grinned at that.

But truthfully I was almost sick with excitement at the idea of seeing Justin again. He had been sent one or two photos of him during the six months, and as much as I would never admit it out loud Justin was looking as gorgeous as ever. This time he'd kept his long hair, letting it grow even more as it now cascaded his shoulders, and his eyes were just as big and blue as the first day I met him but now more confident and calculating.

Really, I could hardly keep myself from jumping off the walls but as if I was going to let my friends - or Justin himself - know that. I finished my piece of bacon and started on the next. I would, however, happily show Justin how much I had missed him when he got here and we got back to the loft.

 **Justin's POV.**

"So," I put the finishing details on my drawing before leaning back and letting Weston get a look, "what do you think?"

I knew the answer the man was going to give just by the expression on his face. "Wow! It looks just like him."

I admittedly had a hard time drawing with no reference (what artist didn't?) but I even thought I did a pretty good job. Weston had explained his lover as small - "smaller than you" - with brown hair and brown eyes and a dazzling smile. Really, I could've gotten a more detailed description and probably did a better job but it wasn't like I was drawing professionally or being paid for it, so in the end I just went with what I had gotten naturally from the other man.

"Do you want it?" I asked after a second. "I would love if you showed it to him."

Weston smiled and it seemed like the initial tiredness he'd felt upon boarding the plane was dissolving. "You sure?"

"Of course," I said as I gently ripped the page out of my sketchbook and handed it over. "I hope I get a good review."

Laughing, Weston opened his briefcase and slipped the page inside. "If you want I can give you my number, you can check in."

With any other man I would've probably said no, not wanting to give him the wrong idea, but Weston was taken himself and quite frankly he didn't seem like he was interested in me in that way at all. If I wasn't happily with Brian I might've just been insulted. "I would like that." Smiling, I opened my sketchbook and handed Weston the pencil.

Weston got three numbers down before he was interrupted as the plane abruptly shifted in the air. He tried writing more but the shaking just made the numbers intangible and he stopped. I glanced out the window, eyebrows furrowing. It seemed like we were landing but it was way too early for that. I turned his eyes away from the window and began searching for the flight attendant. I knew if I was with Brian he would've shushed me, told me it was no big deal and I was worried for nothing.

I finally saw her and by the expression on her face I knew something was wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Justin's POV.**

I knew I had a history of overreacting (I thanked Emmett for that one), so when I noticed the flight attendant looking distressed I didn't freak out or even say a word. No point in getting the others worried yet. Slowly I looked at Weston, smiling a smile so fake I knew the other man had to know something was wrong but if he did he didn't comment on it, "I need to go to the bathroom."

Weston shifted his legs out of the way and watched quietly as I slipped away, making a beeline for my goal and it definitely wasn't the bathroom. The woman saw me approaching and just like I had done moments before slapped on a fake smile, nervously brushing strands of black hair back from her face.

"Sir," she said, clearing her throat, "you should go back to your - "

I didn't like being rude but now really wasn't the time for that. "Are we crashing?" I interrupted, voice soft. I didn't want the others getting panicked when I still didn't even know if my suspicions were right or not. Her face dropped almost instantly and I had my answer.

"The pilot is just having some technical difficulty," she commented, still keeping her air of professionalism. "We'll be fine."

She wasn't very convincing at all.

"Now if you'd please go - "

I folded his arms over his chest " - sit down?"

She nodded, and as much as I felt like I should be doing something, anything, not just sitting, I also knew there was nothing I could do. I wasn't a pilot - hell, I didn't even know the basics of how a plane worked. The best thing I could do was listen, get situated, and prepare for all possibilities.

Without arguing, I turned around and walked back over, counting my steps as I went - only five. In retrospect this plane wan't big, only held a relatively small number of people. My stomach lurched because even I knew the smaller an object, the less impact it could handle.

"That isn't the direction of the bathroom," Weston commented quietly when I reappeared, once again moving his legs.

I slipped by, sitting down and immediately I grabbed the belt. I glanced at Weston and nodded at his own belt.

The other man quickly followed my example, buckling up, not once questioning me. Ifelt a little relieved for that.

I knew, of course, it was only a matter of time before the speakers came on (if they were truly crashing) and everyone got instructed to do the same, but a part of me was hoping somehow knowing before the others would help our chances. I knew it wouldn't, not really, but still I had to be hopeful - the second lesson I had learned from Emmett. I peered over at Weston, frowning.

Now I almost regretted getting to know him.

The speakers clicked on.

"We are experiencing some technical difficulties, please put on your belts and get your masks prepared."

I almost jumped when masks suddenly started popping out of the ceiling, my own dangling in front of me. I reached up, slow at first before quickly grabbing the mask and pulling it close. It all seemed too familiar - not the scene itself, but the absolute fear, the feeling that you're on the edge and there's nothing you can do about it, but hope and wait. I licked my lips, memories of the bashing coming back in splotches.

I was never truly out, not really, I remembered small things from here and there, from when I was supposedly out. I remembered thinking it was the end, that I was experiencing my last moments on earth but I also remembered waking up and seeing the faces of my loved ones, and feeling so relieved it knocked the air back out of me all over again. I remembered seeing Brian again a few days later, remembered seeing him smile and frown all at once before pulling me in for a hug. I had freaked out and Brian had pulled away as fast as possible, complete guilt visible on his face. After that, I hugged him again because no amount of my own pain - physical or mental - could compare with seeing that.

Just like that time I could feel the air being knocked out of me. That was my signal. I pressed the mask against my face and prepared myself.

 **Brian's POV.**

I was almost finished with my food when some dyke in the diner turned up the volume on the television. I wasn't looking or paying attention at all until I felt a hand on my shoulder and saw Emmett looking at me with an unpleasant expression. I grimaced, thinking he was about to complain about something ridiculous and shrugged his hand off. I then noticed Emmett wasn't the only one looking at me. "What?"

"What plane is Justin on?" Ted asked simply.

I lifted both eyebrows now, a little more interested in the conversation. "Flight 170. Why?"

I heard the crashing of glass and quickly turned in time to see Debbie standing over a pile of broken dishes, her eyes glued on the television and her hands trembling. It was like instinct, like my body knew something bad was happening before my mind did. I focused on the television, my skin growing cold when I saw the news report playing. The volume, despite having been turned up, was still relatively low and I strained as I tried to make out properly what the reporter was saying.

"We recently got a call from the pilot of Flight 170," she had a grim expression, "and it has now been confirmed that they are experiencing technical difficulties." I clenched my jaw. There was no way this was actually happening, absolutely no way. I had just talked to Justin not even an hour ago, and he had been his usual sunshine-y self. "The pilot has said they will be trying to make an emergency landing as soon as possible, medics are being prepared for the upcoming possibilities as we speak."

I felt a hand squeezing his arm. It was Michael. Unlike earlier, I didn't shrug him off.

"What - " Debbie was stammering, her eyes wide and mouth agape. If this was any other situation I probably would've made fun of her for looking so absolutely ridiculous. Ignoring the broken glass at her feet, she walked around it and paused in front of the table, wringing her apron. She quieted down after that, only stood there looking completely shattered. I closed his eyes because seeing that wasn't helping. "We should say a prayer," she mumbled finally.

Michael gave the best smile he could.

"A prayer?" I opened my eyes again. "What the fuck is saying a shitty little prayer gonna do?"

Under normal circumstances we all knew Debbie would've smacked me for that but she didn't, merely smiled sadly. Nobody was shocked by it after-all, it was me - the worst candidate for tragedies ever, not because I didn't care as much as I liked convincing others of that, but because I didn't know how to handle my emotions. "You don't have to do anything you don't want," she folded her hands together and glanced at the television, "but I will."

Emmett followed her example, closing his eyes, and after a minute even Ted was doing the same. I rolled my tongue in against my cheek, staring at the television as Michael continued rubbing my arm. The reporter had disappeared from the screen and been replaced by an older man, and he was talking about some other incident of the day, but really I couldn't think of anything that could be more important than keeping tabs on the plane.

I did the only thing I could; think. I thought about Justin, how he had been after his bashing. He'd been scared of almost everything, worried he would never be able to draw again or even throw a ball properly again. I remembered the first time he'd properly thrown a ball after the accident, remembered the pure bliss on Justin's face as he jumped towards me and hugged me like he'd just done the impossible.

I remembered wanting to say "I'm proud of you" but then pausing because I wasn't sure exactly how to go about it. I remembered Daphne saying it for me, bright smile on her face as she jumped up and down with Justin and laughed. My heart stopped. Fuck, did Daphne know? What about Jennifer?

Suddenly the screen changed and the reporter from before was back on the screen, and she looked even more seldom.

I breathed out, my body tensing up.

Even people who didn't know about the situation had the decency of shutting up upon noticing the tension in the air, all eyes stopping on the same spot - the television. The reporter shuffled the papers in front of her, the white of her eyes now stained red. I knew what she was going to say before a word ever left her lips:

"We have an update on Flight 170. The landing was unsuccessful and they suspect the engine being the reason," she paused, collecting herself. "They crashed right outside New York and so far, with help from the local medics, they have concluded seven causalities so far and two injured."

My entire body felt like it was burning up.

"They are going through the information of the passengers and contacting families or friends as quickly as possible," she continued. "If you are contacted it would be advised you come and talk with the local police." Lastly she forced a small smile, and at the same time I knew she was just trying to be nice, strong, I couldn't help wanting to wipe that smile right off her face. "While this is a tragic time, I hope we can all get through it peacefully and I wish all the families involved the best."

Then, just like that, like she hadn't just announced the worst news of an eternity, she was off the screen.

"Brian?" Michael hesitated, staring at me.

I quietly stood up. All eyes stopped on me as I just lingered there.

"Brian, honey," Emmett started softly, eyes wet, "sit down."

When Michael reached for me I avoided his hand.

I knew what being worried felt like - I had been worried about dozens of people before even the ones who thought I was a heartless shit. It was that feeling like your body was going up in flames but also cold as ice at the same time, it was like everything was moving slower, preparing you for the inevitable. This, what I was feeling, wasn't worry, not even close. Dread was the only word that could even begin to cover it but even that didn't properly explain how I felt.

My entire body ached. I was physically hurting from head-to-toe, actual physical pain. I stumbled, barely catching myself on the table, and ignored the looks from everyone. I hated, more than anything, seeming weak in front of others but right now no amount of effort, no amount of years of practicing, could hide how I was feeling from coming up on my face.

"Bathroom," I said, stomach churning.

Nobody stopped me as I ran and nobody said a word as I emptied the contents of my stomach in the bathroom.

 **Justin's POV.**

Pain. Immense, throbbing pain that danced throughout your body almost rhythmically.

I kept my eyes closed and focused on my breathing until I finally got it controlled, coming out in pained groans still but not as often. Eventually I decided I had no other choice and slowly opened my eyes. I regretted it as soon as I did; blinded by the sun.

That wasn't the only reason I regretted my decision, though.

I never imagined I would ever see so much blood. I swallowed. Some of the blood was my own, I knew, feeling the liquid pouring from different parts of my body but some of it wasn't. Leaning up on my elbows, I stayed there, eyes searching. Dozens of limp bodies, bloodied and some unrecognizable with injuries. I didn't recognize any of the people, which I pegged as a good thing.

It was still a horrible sight but at least I wasn't looking at the dead bodies of friends or family.

"We've got one more!"

I winced at the high-pitched voice, momentarily closing my eyes as I heard footsteps approaching me hurriedly.

"Sweetie," the voice continued and this time I opened his eyes, getting a look at the woman in front of me, "relax, okay?"

I didn't say a word, didn't reply at all, but silently watched as a few men came over in uniforms - paramedics? - with bags of tools. The pain was growing now, becoming just as blinding as the sun had been moments ago. I was a little relieved when one of the men put his arms around my shoulders because it meant I no longer needed to keep myself up, even if he was applying some weird foam thing around my neck that made moving impossible.

"Relax," the woman said again as I felt himself myself placed on a moving bed.

I knew this contraption had a name but I couldn't think of it, a little irked by the realization I couldn't remember it.

When the woman saw my tight expression, she gently brushed her fingers over my cheek. "Relax."

Finally I gave up, no longer fighting the darkness that welcomed me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Brian's POV.**

I knew staring at my phone wouldn't do a thing. Like they always said, a watched pot never boils but somehow it helped. Staring at the blank screen, holding the device so tight in my hand I wouldn't be surprised if it cracked. The others in the car talked around me quietly, sending worried glances my way.

It was annoying, made me want to tell them all off.

But in the end I didn't. In the end I couldn't. My usual spark was gone, dwindled down until it was no longer there.

"Anything?" Michael spoke finally and a part of me was relieved he was at least trying. He peered at my phone, staring at it like I had been doing for the last hour. He still had his issues with Justin - fuck if he thought he could hide that from me, his best friend - and probably always would but despite it all I knew he cared about him. Not as much as me, nobody cared about him as much as me. I paused.

Maybe that wasn't a nice thing to say - or eh, think - but in my mind I had no doubts it was the truth.

I scoffed, tossing the phone at him. I didn't say a word, merely watched quietly as he checked the phone. Nothing.

"Do you - " Michael cleared his throat, placing the phone in his lap discarded. "This reminds me of when we had to drive to New York to find Justin." I, of course, remembered that perfectly. I also remembered finding him in that expensive hotel with food all over the table, having spent so much of me money I should've been angry - really angry, but I wasn't. I was just relieved, thankful the little bastard had been safe.

I also remembered pushing him down on the bed, remembered touching him, feeling him.

I closed my eyes. Good memories suddenly seemed bad.

"Do you think it might be a good sign they haven't called?" Emmett piped up from the other side of me, his voice raspy from crying. For once when he had started sobbing I didn't make fun of him or call him a queen, just let him do it. He needed it. "I mean," he shrugged his shoulders slightly, sadly, "you'd think they'd inform the families of, uh," he glanced at me, "deceased first then the injured next."

Deb was driving and as he spoke her fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white.

I reached up and rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

Suddenly my phone went off and before Michael could do a thing about it I was snatching it out from his lap. I could feel all eyes on me. Glancing up, I didn't say a word because I didn't need to - they all knew just from my expression. Who wouldn't? I could feel my jaw clenching, my eyebrows furrowed at the unfamiliar number.

Michael softly touched my arm, encouraging me. I hated admitting it but I needed that right now.

I answered the call and lifted my phone up holding it against my ear as I listened. "Mr. Kinney?" a woman asked.

My heart jumped. I closed my eyes. "Yes?"

"Do you know a - " she paused as if she was checking the information " - Justin Taylor?"

I breathed in. "Yes."

The next six seconds felt much, much longer. I prepared myself for anything, everything. I could feel Michael still squeezing my arm, nervous just like me. But definitely not as heartbroken. Heartbroken, huh? And most people said I didn't even have a heart, proved them wrong.

"I'm happy to inform you we have him here at St. Francis Hospital," I could feel the weight of worlds being lifted off my shoulders. I opened my eyes now and the tension in the air shifted. Again no words but everyone just knew. "We were going to inform his direct family," she continued after a moment and I was back to listening, focusing on her and not the people around me, "but on his files it says in case of an emergency to contact you."

I couldn't help smiling at that. His mother would be so pissed he did that. Everyone looked surprised by me smiling.

"How is he?" I asked finally, the smile disappearing. Alive didn't automatically equate okay. I knew that.

"When we found him he was in critical condition," she explained, voice soft, "but he is undergoing surgery as we speak - normally we'd ask permission considering it is a risky procedure," she paused as if she expected an outburst. I didn't give her that, merely kept silent. "But we decided, after discussing it, it would be best to start operating as soon as possible. Last update was that he was going well and the surgery was progressing as expected."

I felt relieved. It didn't mean everything was fine yet - not even close - but it was something.

"Would you mind coming up here?" she asked. "We need your signature on some papers among - "

"I've been on my way," I interrupted her, "since the moment I heard about the accident."

"Understandable," she breathed. "When you get here ask for me, Ms. Johnson, and I'll let you know about any updates."

I nodded and pulled the phone away from my ear, watching as she ended the call. Good, I wasn't sure I would've had the guts to do it myself. I wanted that immediate landline, a way of knowing details as they happened. Deb cleared her throat and when I looked up she was staring at me through the rear view mirror.

I cocked my head and she grinned like a wild cat. Fuck, she knew me.

"I think..." I breathed out, running my fingers through my hair. "I think he's gonna be okay."

Michael threw his arms around me and hugged me like a stuffed animal. Emmett squealed in my left ear - and it fucking hurt - but right now wasn't the time for complaining. I hugged Michael back and rested my chin on his shoulder, watching out the window as trees passed us by.

The woman had said he'd be okay, that surgery was going as planned, so why did I have such a bad feeling?


	4. Chapter 4

**Justin's POV.**

When I opened my eyes I immediately regretted it. White walls, white sheets, everything was so white it was blinding. I tried moving my arm to cover my eyes but I was so pathetically weak I couldn't even do that. My fingers twitched but that was all. I was just about to close my eyes again, apparently the only thing I could do right now, when I heard a startled noise coming from my left.

"You're - " it was a female, probably pretty young judging by her voice " - Justin, you're awake!"

I blinked. Justin?

"Gosh you had me worried sick," the voice continued. "Oh, I'll be right back!"

I shifted, my head brushing against the softness of the pillow under me as I looked over just in time to see the back of a young woman as she left the room skipping. Me waking up was apparently a big deal, but I couldn't think why that might be. I closed my eyes, thinking. Nothing, all I saw was darkness where I'm sure memories should be.

When I heard footsteps approaching I opened my eyes again. The woman from before was back but now with a different much older woman. She was pretty - the younger one, I mean - with dark skin and curly brown hair that stopped by her hips and a smile so bright, so loving I felt bad that I couldn't place her but surely I knew her if she was smiling at me like that.

The older woman was beautiful also, but in a much more matured way. Blonde hair that brushed her shoulders and a soft smile that made me feel okay somehow even if my body was aching, throbbing. She put a hand over her mouth and stared at me with watery eyes.

"Justin, baby," was all she said as she slowly stepped up, reaching out for me but pausing abruptly before she could make any actual contact with me. I didn't quite understand why she seemed scared of touching me, but I didn't say anything about it. Pulling her hands back, she merely smiled. "How are you feeling?"

I glanced down at my body and suddenly things clicked. I was in a hospital bed, wires coming out of my arms. "Am I okay?"

Looking up, I saw as the woman - the older one - slowly changed from looking concerned to confused. "From what the doctors say, yes," she is talking low, eyes going from me to the younger woman then back to me, "but they said you will probably still be hurting for a long time now."

I nodded. "I," I pursed my lips, thinking once more but still nothing. "Was I hurt?"

This time both women looked confused, worried.

The younger one stepped towards my bed, wringing her hands nervously. Why was she nervous? "Justin?"

Justin, it sounded familiar but I couldn't place it. I knew she was talking to me, though. "Is that my name?"

"I was in an accident? Involving a plane?"

I wanted to believe the women, the younger had been identified as Daphne and the older Jennifer, but it just seemed impossible that I wouldn't remember something as extreme as that. Shuffling my feet, I adjusted the sheets over my body to be more comfortable.

"I think I should really go get a doctor," Jennifer mumbled, glancing at the door.

She was hiding something from me, I knew that from the way she was acting but as if I could even begin guessing what that might be. Time would probably reveal what she was hiding. Smiling a little, I gestured. "Go ahead," I said because a part of me wanted to see a doctor, too, get a better understanding of what had happened. Anyway if I was being totally honest it wasn't like I would miss her too much. I barely knew her - or at least I felt that way.

Daphne was sitting beside my bed and when I said that she reached out taking my hand. "I'll watch him."

Jennifer smiled but it was so dull, so sad. She exited the room without a word and when she was gone I turned my attention fully on the young woman left with me. She truly was gorgeous, her fashion a little tasteless but fun. Squeezing her hand, I made a face.

"Are you my girlfriend?"

She laughed so loud at that I pulled my hand back from hers and covered my ears. She quieted, grabbing my hand again. "Sorry, sorry," she chuckled, running her thumb across my knuckles and it felt familiar like she'd done it a thousands times before, but I just couldn't remember any of the moments she had - all blurs in the back of my mind. "I'm definitely not your girlfriend," she concluded as if I didn't already get my answer, "we're just best friends, the best of best friends."

I smiled a bit. "And that other woman - "

"Your mom," she finished, and it seemed she was more hurt that I didn't remember my mother than she was about me not remembering her. "She didn't tell you, probably didn't wanna overwhelm you or anything." Daphne sighed, pulling my hand in her lap and continuing to stroke my knuckles. "I know better, though."

I blinked, wiggling my fingers. "What do you mean by that?"

Daphne grinned. "I know you're a strong little twink who can handle anything and quite frankly everything life throws at ya."

I nodded along with her words until - "twink?"

Now she was grinning so big I knew it had to be hurting her cheeks, "you'll figure it out."

The doctor was nice, I decided. He was a younger man, probably mid-30s with a genuine smile and a soothing voice.

30 and a doctor - that was impressive. I wondered briefly what kind of job I had, if it was impressive. I somehow doubted it. I watched silently as he looked over me over, asked me questions, checked his files. When he was finished he told me if I needed anything just to click a button on a remote attached to my bed. I thanked him.

He grabbed my mom - wow, it was weird calling her that when I still had no recollections of her as my mother - and dragged her out of the room. I pouted without even realizing it. I didn't like the idea of people talking about me behind closed doors. Daphne noticed, I think, because she took my hand and distracted me with stories of events I didn't remember but knew I should.

The one story that sparked anything in me, though I would hardly say I remembered it, was the one about prom. I leaned against the headboard, my back propped up against a pillow as she went on about the night. "You looked so hot," she said, grinning wildly but it didn't reach her eyes. "I did, too, of course, and - "

The way she paused so fast made me feel a little nervous. I chewed on my lip, waiting. Still nothing. "And?"

She glanced up, staring me right in the eyes and my heart jumped. "Brian Kinney."

I stared back, the name bouncing around in my mind. It sounded... not even familiar but right, comforting. But that was all, I couldn't put a face behind the name nevertheless a good understanding of who it was. Daphne looked so determined, so expectant though like she was expecting something, something I realized I couldn't give her. I breathed out slowly.

"Who's that?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Brian's POV.**

I lingered in the waiting room, feeling a little sick. Deb stepped in front of me, smiling her usual little smile, "I'll go ask."

Good, because I just didn't think I had the strength in me right now. Images of Justin flashed through my mind and the sad part is I didn't have to imagine what he looked like right now, I knew - knew exactly what the blonde looked like strapped up to machines, sleeping in a bed that wasn't his own, eyes dull and hopeless because we'd been here before.

I was really hoping we'd never have to be here again.

"I'm gonna go get us some waters," Michael mumbled, squeezing my arm. "Want one?"

I nodded because it was all I could do. He nodded back, releasing my arm and disappearing down the hall.

Deb reappeared moments later with a big smile - she really did look like a wild cat when she grinned like that. She kept her eyes glued on me. "He's in room 108, they said he's making a promising recovery so far." I breathed out, relief washing over me. Things still weren't okay necessarily, we all knew that, but Justin was alive and that's all that truly mattered. "Where'd Michael go?"

I gestured down the hall. "To get us waters."

She made an 'o' with her mouth and knowingly stepped out of the way. "You guys go ahead. I'll wait for him and get up with you later."

Ted walked with me, Emmett hugged Deb for a minute or two before joining us. With his long legs, he quickly caught up and started helping us look. I glanced up at every door I passed looking for room 108. When we reached the end of the hall and turned left I saw it, the door with 108 plastered on it, and it was like the air was knocked out of me. I suddenly felt like I was frozen, like I couldn't move.

"Come on," Emmett urged softly as he went up and knocked. Ted followed him. They didn't get it, they never would.

A part of me was yelling 'run, run, run' but a bigger part of me was yelling 'stay.' Don't make the same mistake twice, be there for Justin this time, let him know he isn't alone. The door jingled as it opened and a man stepped out - a doctor, I supposed. He was busy adjusting his clipboard under his arm when he saw Emmett and Ted then me. His eyes widened then went normal again. "Are you - "

"We're here to see Justin," I interrupted, wiping my hands off on my pants. I didn't like the look in his eyes.

He glanced back and gestured and seconds later Jennifer was standing next to him. She saw me and her face brightened just the smallest bit. It almost made me feel good knowing I could do that. She nodded at the doctor - "I'll tell them" - and he left without a word. When he was gone, she treated me like a son and scooped me up in a hug. I didn't fight it even if Emmett looked shocked.

When we separated, I was quick in asking - "tell us what?"

Jennifer licked her lips, rubbing her hands together as if she was cold but I knew she wasn't. The hospital was warm. "Justin is..." she paused. "He's going to be okay."

I lifted an eyebrow. If he was going to be okay, why was she looking at me like that?

"Physically," she continued after a moment, "but mentally he - he's having some problems."

I glanced at Emmett curiously before looking back at Jennifer, but truthfully I was looking through her, waiting impatiently. My mind was distracted, the urge of wanting to see Justin growing stronger and stronger. Jennifer waved her hand in front of my face as if she knew I wasn't really there. Pushing images of Justin out of my mind, I focused on her.

"He's having memory problems," she explained

Suddenly I was paying full attention to her. "Like before?" I pushed my tongue against my cheek. "I can - I can help him then. How much did he forget?"

She closed her eyes briefly before reopening them. Without saying a word - and shit, that gave me a bad feeling - she turned and opened the door. Emmett walked in before me with Ted then Jennifer and I lingered outside, my heart beating so fast inside my chest it was almost painful. Emmett peered at me, comforting me with no words just soft eyes. He really was a decent guy, wasn't he? Ted opened his mouth then closed it, deciding against saying anything.

Breathing out sharply, I stepped inside the room and immediately noticed Daphne sitting by the window. Her eyes glistened with an emotion I couldn't name.

I was tired of everyone looking at me like that.

Shaking the tenseness from my body, I turned and looked at Justin. He was safe sitting there in the hospital bed, awake and just as beautiful as ever, but there was some differences - his body was battered with bruises and cuts and his forehead was wrapped tightly with a bandage and it looked suspiciously like the night of the prom. My stomach clenched at that realization and I approached the end of the bed.

"Justin," I sighed.

He looked up at his name and blinked before smiling slightly. See, he was just fine, why was everyone so worked up?

I circled the bed, stopping when I got close enough to grab his hand. "How you feeling?"

Justin wiggled his fingers in my hand. "Good," he furrowed his brows. "Can I ask something?" He asked like it was a general question not directed at me specifically.

I slowly licked my lips, glancing at Jennifer then Daphne. Nobody said a word. I looked back at Justin, squeezing his hand. "Yeah. What is it, sunshine?"

"Are you Brian?" His eyes fluttered away from me as he looked at Daphne. "Is this him?"

For a long moment I just stood there unresponsive, listening as Daphne softly answered him - "yes, that's him."

I knew I needed to stay, needed to find out the details, but my body moved instinctively as I walked out of the room without as much as uttering a word and stepped out in the hall. The door slammed shut behind me just as I heard two familiar voices approaching me. Deb was helping Michael with the waters, probably about eight bottles in all.

"How is my little sunshine? Is he okay?" Deb asked, smiling big.

I sucked my lips in. "Depends on your definition of okay."

She furrowed her brows, but didn't push more out of me. Michael walked around me and opened the door for his mother, letting her go in. I closed my eyes tight. I couldn't run away. Even if that was all I wanted to do right about now, I couldn't let Justin think I wasn't there for him - not for a second time. In the end I would only be avoiding the inevitable anyway. When I opened my eyes I saw Michael still standing there with the door opened.

"You coming?"

I grabbed a water from him and walked back in.

The entire time I visited it was the worst pain I had ever experienced. Cancer seemed like a joke now.

When the doctor came in and told us Justin probably needed rest I walked out with Daphne. I didn't know why but I felt like I wanted to be with her the most right now. I followed her silently until we reached a big door and she opened it with her shoulder, stepping out in the cold night air. What time was it? I didn't know, didn't really care.

"If he doesn't remember me," I said finally, pulling a box of cigarettes out, "how did he know it was me - how did he know my name?"

Daphne put a hand out in front me. I gave her a cigarette without saying a word. No joking about her being too young, too healthy, too pretty for such an ugly habit. She stuck it between her lips and waited for me to pull out of my lighter. I lit her cigarette before doing the same again with my own. I breathed in, feeling the familiar comforting pressure in my throat.

"I told him about you," she said after a minute, staring at the smoke coming from her cigarette. "I thought it might, you know, do something for his memory."

I scoffed, "and did it?" But I had my answer, and she knew I wasn't really asking.

"He obviously still remembers you a little," Daphne countered, the cigarette bobbing between her lips as she spoke, "I mean I gave him the smallest details but he still immediately knew it was you. Why didn't he think it was Emmett or Ted?" She sighed. "Okay, don't answer that." Emmett was attractive in his own means, same for Ted, but we both knew with the way Daphne would've described me Justin never would've thought it was anyone but me. "I think he'll remember everything if we just give him time," she mumbled, a hopefulness behind her soft voice. She glanced at me wearily, "but if you're going to give up when things get tough or do your usual - " she gestured with her hand like she couldn't find a word for it, and she didn't need a word for it because I knew exactly what she meant " - then just go."

I was a little shocked by that. "What?"

Daphne huffed, turning completely so she was facing me, a new expression on her face - determination. "Justin doesn't need your shit right now, Brian," I blinked, knowing she wasn't finished yet. "He needs to focus on getting better with only the people around him who want to be there, who will be there no matter how hard things get for him, for us."

I wanted to be there for him more than anything. I was just... scared. Fuck, I hated admitting that.

"I'm not going to abandon him," I stated firmly, flicking the cigarette on the floor and stomping out the flame, "I just need some time of my own."

She licked her lips, watching me like she was waiting for me to go back on my words. That wasn't happening. Finally I think she was convinced as she looked away, pushing her hair behind her ears. "He's going to start attending therapy in three days," she said, side-eyeing me, "physical, duh, but the doctor said it would be good if he saw a therapist during his stay, too, one that specializes in memory loss." She stepped closer, brushing our shoulders together gently. "But if you're asking me the one thing he needs most is you, Brian."

My heart tightened. Justin really had some good friends. I always knew Daphne was a good friend to him, but I was starting to think if any person cared about Justin as much as me it was her. I nodded slowly, breathing out. "The last time this happened - the prom incident - I always visited in secret." I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my jackets, eyebrows furrowing. "I didn't know why at first, why I was so afraid of him actually knowing I cared." I huffed out a laugh. "The nurse kept telling me it would probably help him recover if I properly visited him, said he kept asking about me. I fucked up, Daphne, I should've visited him. Really visited him, let him know I was there for him but I didn't."

She reached out, grasped my shoulder and squeezed. "But did you learn from your mistakes?"

I glanced at her. "Guess we'll have to wait and see, huh?"

She squeezed my shoulder tighter but I knew she wasn't angry as she smiled playfully. "I wish Justin could've picked someone easier to fall in love with."

I lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, darling, we all do."


	6. Chapter 6

**Justin's POV.**

I felt guilty I couldn't remember this Brian character because I knew that's what everyone wanted, what everyone was waiting for. Every time he walked in the room all eyes turned on me waiting, hoping, but each time I had to give the same sad smile and watch as disappointment settled in the room so thick it was like I could physically feel it weighing down on me.

I didn't understand why, out of everyone, this man seemed so important but I somehow knew if I remembered him I would surely remember more and it wouldn't just stop there. It was like he was a domino waiting to be toppled and the second he toppled my memories would slowly come back in ripples.

I was still in pain but the doctors had prescribed me something new and it was helping. It was mostly just a light throbbing in my temples now with a few random spouts of nausea, which the doctor said was normal. When I started hurting it was like Daphne knew it and each time she would start rubbing my arm. It was comforting and I appreciated it, but I didn't say it. Not sure why, I just felt like it would make the situation weird.

Daphne was a lot like Brian; I felt connected with her despite not remembering anything about the friendship we apparently shared before this all happened. She really cared about me, too, I knew because she never left the room unless it was absolutely necessary. The nurses had even started bringing two trays during lunch and dinner, one for me and one for her. Even my mother left occasionally, but then again after being informed of Molly I understood why she couldn't spend as long with me.

Molly - her name didn't even ring a bell.

A couple days later I was visited by everyone again. I was relieved because truthfully I'd been getting a little bored of just sitting in bed all day watching Daphne as she worked away at an assignment for school. I told her she could go home and do it, but she insisted on staying. I smiled at that and thanked her but she just rolled her eyes.

"No thanking me," she said, "I'm doing this because I wanna do it."

My mother entered the room first with a few bags hanging off her arms. I eyed the bags curiously, my stomach turning over. She placed the bags on the floor and before I could ask about the contents Emmett was in front of me.

Or at least I'm pretty sure this one was Emmett. Or Ted. I wasn't completely sure.

"Hey, princess," he said, gently pulling me in his arms.

Daphne furrowed her brows. "Be careful!"

I laughed, my chest rumbling. "I'm not _that_ delicate," I said glancing at her.

She pursed her lips for a minute before breaking out grinning. "You're right, go at 'im Emmett."

Okay, I had been right about his name. He pulled me back in for a second hug and this time lingered with his arms around me. He was warm, soft. I hugged him back slowly, burying my face in his shoulder. The doctors told me my memories could come back at any moment and could be trigged by anything.

That made me a little desperate; every hug I had, every conversation I partook in - I was always, in the back of my mind, hoping it would trigger something. Just a small memory would be fine, anything that helped me be the person I was before - the person this group obviously loved very much.

But it hadn't yet, and this hug was no different.

Emmett pulled away and smiled down at me. "You'll get there, baby, don't push yourself."

God, I had such good people surrounding me that I couldn't help feeling like a dick for not remembering any of them. I knew it wasn't my fault _realistically_ , but the guilt was still there in the pit of stomach and I think it had a larger part to do with my bouts of nausea more-so than any medical reason.

My mother stepped up then holding one of the bags. "I brought some stuff for you."

I blinked. "That bag - " I paused, licking my lips. "I feel like I've seen it before."

She placed a hand over her mouth, her eyes watering. But as soon as she had looked like she was going to cry, she looked fine again. I had a strong mother. "This is a bag I bought you two years ago for your birthday," she explained, placing it at the end of the bed and rummaging through it. "I went back home and got some stuff I thought you might be missing - " There was a slight pause as it dawned on her, and ultimately me, that I couldn't miss things I didn't even remember in the first place. "Also the doctors said it might help jog your memory if you saw some of your old stuff."

I nodded, watching as she pulled out a stack of - books? No, comic books. I knew that much.

"Do you remember Rage?"

I looked up from the books and focused on the man who had spoken from the corner of the room. My mind buzzed as I tried remembering his name. Michael. It was Michael. I smiled sadly, shrugging my shoulders, "I don't."

He looked hurt.

"What is it?" I asked. "A comic I liked?"

My mother didn't say a word as she reached over across the bed and handed Brian the stack of comic books. He glanced at her questioningly, almost angrily, but she merely gestured at me. I smiled. He hadn't said a word since entering the room but now he had no choice. He cleared his throat as he faced me.

"Rage is a comic book you and Mikey other there made together," he explained and I listened intently, truly interested. He softly placed the stack in my lap, lingering with his fingers brushing against my thighs before eventually pulling back. "You drew everything, he wrote. It was kind of a big deal for you guys."

Oh, _oh_. I picked up the first comic on top, flipping through the pages. "I - I drew this?"

Daphne grinned. "It's a big hit within the gay community."

Suddenly I felt a little embarrassed. "Really?" I barely looked up in time to see the proud look that stayed on Brian's face for exactly two seconds before vanishing. I licked my lips, glancing back down at the comic and gently running my fingertips over the page. Daphne had mentioned me being an artist but I never expected I was _this_ good. I crinkled my nose. That sounded kind of conceited, didn't it? I looked up from under my eyelashes. "Did you like it?"

Brian made a little sound between a laugh and snort - it was a nice sound. "Yeah, I did."

"Can I keep them?" I asked, glancing at Brian then Michael. I had no memories of working with him but I'm sure it was lots of fun. How could drawing a comic not be fun? He nodded and so did Brian. Grinning big, I put the comics back in a stack and gestured for Daphne. She grabbed the stack and placed it on the bedside table for me. I was just excited I would have something to do for the rest of my time in the hospital.

Brian stepped back then, running his fingers through his short dark hair. Daphne had been right about one thing - Brian Kinney was fucking gorgeous and even not knowing our history I found my eyes lingering on him every time I knew, or hoped, I wouldn't be caught staring. This wasn't one of the times, it seemed, because when I pulled myself out of my thoughts I noticed he was staring right back at me with an amused smile on his face.

Flushing, I glanced at Daphne. "Can you please get me more water?" I paused. "Sorry, I've been bossing you around a lot - "

She shushed me with a finger against my lips. "What did I say? I'm doing this because I wanna, not because I feel obligated." She smiled as she pulled her finger back and I returned the smile. "I'll be right back."

She wasn't the only one who left, though. Seconds later my mother followed after her mumbling something about a bathroom - I found that odd considering my room had an attached bathroom. After her Emmett slipped out with his friend Ted (only after kissing me goodbye). Last was Deb with Michael. She said she was tired and needed rest, and Michael offered to drive for her.

Then just like that it was me and Brian, alone in a quiet room with the sun slowly going down casting a perfect light over Brian as he awkwardly stood there. He was an enigma, unexplainable, I knew that without even needing to ask about him. He was awkward and confident all at once with snarky remarks that fell off his tongue so naturally it was almost endearing and I...

I couldn't remember any of that from beyond the last two days.

My stomach churned and suddenly I felt like puking again.

"Are you okay?"

I blinked away my thoughts and noticed Brian staring at me concerned. "I'm fine. Just - " I touched my stomach silently. "Not feeling the best right now." He nodded knowingly and softly sat at my feet. "So much is happening so fast and I feel... guilty," I shrugged, choking out a laugh. "I know everyone wants me to just remember suddenly but it isn't happening and I'm afraid."

Brian breathed out. "Afraid of what?"

I looked up at him. "Afraid of losing you all."

He cocked an eyebrow, lips pulling up at the ends in a smirk. "Sunshine, I get feeling down right now but trust me you cannot get rid of us that easily." I couldn't help smiling at that. "Specifically that red-haired lady, Debbie, pfft, you could fight her off with a stick and she'd still come running back to you. She loves you."

Now I was grinning. "What about you?"

His smile disappeared. "Me?"

"Yeah," I felt awkward now like I surely must've had something wrong. "Do you... love me?"

He looked down, stared at the floor like suddenly it was the most interesting thing in the world. I watched his face best as I could, though the shadows made a good job of hiding him. Finally he glanced up. "I love you as much as you loved me."

I blinked. "But that isn't - " fair, that's what I wanted to say. I couldn't even remember him and as an extenstion of that I definitely didn't remember how much I loved him. I knew I had, Daphne made that obvious but still I was hoping for something else. "How much did I love you?"

It was a dumb question, I knew, but it came out without me thinking.

He leaned over my body, his hands resting on either side of me, and kissed my cheek. When he pulled way he just smiled, a tiny smile but it made my heart feel like it was exploding. "Guess we may never know."

Daphne entered the room holding two glasses of water. She spotted Brian. "Shit, did you want one?"

He got off the bed, stretching his back. "I was just leaving actually."

I watched as he left. When he was gone, Daphne handed me my water. "So... what happened?"

I chewed on my lip. My cheek was still hot from his lips has been moments ago. "Nothing worth mentioning."


End file.
